


tell me why it'll be good again

by liquidsky



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Christmas, Falling In Love, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2855723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidsky/pseuds/liquidsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I like this one,” he tells him, turning up the volume to All I Want For Christmas Is You. Adam pretends he doesn’t notice the way Ronan looks at him from the corner of his eyes when he thinks he can’t see him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me why it'll be good again

**Author's Note:**

> i know it's not christmas anymore, but i'm hoping it still counts. merry christmas to everyone, but especially to my incredible friends with whom i very much love losing my shit over ronan/adam.  
> the title is a line from bright lights and cityscapes by sara bareilles.

_"Croooowded room, friends with ti-ired eyes,"_ Ronan sings loudly, his voice sounding ridiculously off-key, _“I’m hiding from you, and your so-oul of ice,”_

It’s a cold day, strangely icy even by usual standards. Ronan is standing in their improvised kitchen at Monmouth Manufacturing, whisking together egg yolks and truly unholy amounts of sugar in a light blue bowl. He keeps at that for at least half an hour, carefully mixing together the ingredients for what he hopes will turn out to be the perfect eggnog. It's a family recipe, and it never fails to take Ronan back to simpler times. He thinks of his father, can almost hear the powerful sound of his laughter, remembers the soft look on his mother's eyes, happy faces and full hearts.

Maybe he's missed Christmas, after all.

 

* * *

 

Adam hates Christmas.

He has no words for the uttermost sense of loathe he feels for the holiday: the cold days, the snow that makes it impossible to properly walk anywhere at all, the ridiculous obligation of having to pretend to be a happy family while trying not to make any sound that could possibly drive his dad into beating him senseless. All Christmas is, and has been, for as long as he can remember, is a fancy named regular day in which he has to act like he’s grateful for the shit life he’s been given.

He’s spending it alone this year, doubts his mom is going to have a change of heart and decide to look him in the eye again any time soon, so – Alone it is. Gansey has gone back home for the holidays. He had, of course, spent the days before his departure gloomily complaining about a family that Did Not Understand Him and reassuring everyone that they should most definitely call him if they had any news on Glendower or, for whatever reason, found themselves in need of his immediate assistance. Ronan had rolled his eyes at Gansey before pulling him into an one-armed hug; Adam had just smiled, putting quite the effort into not looking like he was bitter about Gansey’s shallow complaints of his perfectly non-godawful family.

He squints through the glass window at the group of kids dressed as Christmas elves parading around the church and sighs to himself, deciding to go back to hiding under his blanket.

 

* * *

 

It’s near 9 p.m. when the insistent knocking on his door forces him to stumble out from under his blankets. “Go away,” he’d said, shoving his face against the pillows, hoping whoever was outside would leave him alone. They didn’t. One knock. Two more knocks. Then a few more knocks and taps to the rhythm of one of those ridiculous Christmas songs Adam wholeheartedly hates—he’s pretty sure this one sounds like _Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas._

“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, pulling open the door. Outside, looking far too pleased with himself, stands Ronan, his usually black-clad self now wearing a truly hideous Christmas sweater. Adam stares at him, “What do you want?”

“Is this your way of wishing me a Merry Christmas?”, Ronan asks, his thin mouth stretching around a smirk. Adam eyes the reindeer on his sweater suspiciously.

"No. This is my way of saying ‘what the fuck are you doing here?’”, Adam says.

“Not feeling the Christmas thing?”, Ronan says, shoving past him and throwing himself on Adam’s unmade bed. “Get dressed, we’re going out.”

“No, we’re not,” Adam says, and he knows Ronan doesn’t do pleading, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from feeling like the wide set of Ronan’s blue eyes is not something you can say no to. “Ok, fine. Where are we going, may I ask?”

“It’s a surprise,” Ronan says, “Now go.”

 

* * *

 

They drive for about forty five minutes. Adam doesn’t recognize the route, so he just sits back and entertains himself by changing radio stations every three seconds until Ronan annoyedly bats his hands away.

“I like this one,” Ronan tells him, turning up the volume to _All I Want For Christmas Is You_. Adam pretends he doesn’t notice the way Ronan looks at him from the corner of his eyes when he thinks he can’t see him.

 

* * *

 

Ronan takes him to one of the highest points in town – uphill and just about out of the woods – where they can look down and watch the bright lights from the Christmas parade. They climb out, and Adam wraps his arms around himself to stave off the cold. Ronan gives him a small smile before leaning back into the car and grabbing four blankets, a thermos and two small food containers.

He sets one of the blankets over the grass and gestures for Adam to sit down before handing him a second blanket. Adam immediately wraps it around himself, crossing his legs under him so they’ll be warm too. Ronan sits down next to him, dropping the thermos and the containers between them and wrapping himself on a blanket as well.

They sit there for a while, their eyes following the colorful lights far away and then circling back to each other, quiet smiles on their faces. Ronan helps Adam to one of the containers, “Here,” he says.

Adam gives the thing a curious look before opening it, his eyebrows flying up. He stares at the delicious looking roast beef – along with what looks like green beans and sweet potatoes –, then at Ronan.

Ronan gives him a look, “Relax, I got it at the Deli next to that flower shop, you know the one”.

Adam looks slightly unconvinced, but doesn’t add anything else, so Ronan hands him a crappy plastic fork plus a knife and they both dig in. They eat mostly in silence, save for tiny appreciative grunts.

 

* * *

 

At some point after their meal, Ronan breaks out the eggnog and hands a steaming cup to Adam, who promptly accepts it. It’s not long until they’re warm and flushed, laughing at everything and at each other.

It’s nice. Adam looks at Ronan, at the way his sharp features are lightened by a multitude of different colors and thinks that maybe, maybe he might finally understand what it means to be grateful. They somber up without being told to, both of them falling closer and closer together as they look ahead, waiting for the fireworks to fill the sky. Adam turns his head, squints at Ronan until he turns too. They look at each other, a private smile hanging off Ronan’s lips. Adam’s breath catches without him knowing why and his heart races, as unfamiliar as anything. His eyes drop to Ronan’s lips. He turns his face, stares at nothing until he feels less like he’s been too late to realize he’s on a free fall.

"I know,” Adam breaks the silence. Ronan stays quiet—biting his lips and fidgeting with the hem of his sweater under the blanket.

“That obvious?” Ronan asks after a while. He wonders if he should apologize.

“No,” Adam tells him, “but I notice. The way you, uhm. _Look_. Sometimes. It’s… I’m. It’s different, is all.”

“Oh,” Ronan says, very eloquently. “Should I be sorry?”

Adam closes his eyes, “No, I don’t think so.”

He doesn’t open them, just snakes one of his hands from under the blanket and lets it rest between them.

“Ronan?” Adam says.

“Yes?”

Adam feels a warm hand reach for his own, feels as it hesitates, the tips of long fingers drawing patterns on Adam’s palm.

“I think I might too,” Adam says, quietly.

Ronan intertwines their fingers, squeezes his hand. They stay silent, their hands are still clasped together when the first burst of color fills the sky above them.

“Merry Christmas, Adam,” Ronan says.

“It is, isn’t it?” he whispers, mostly to himself. He doesn’t see it when Ronan nods.

 

* * *

 

 Neither of them let go.

**Author's Note:**

> it's a very short fic, sorry! same as always: please let me know if there are any terrible mistakes i should fix and, since it's unbeta'd, any and all of them are my own. thank you for reading!


End file.
